Do you know my Crapberry, that I sometimes use to take bad photos of cats creeping in my window and that I am still paying for in France except I am not paying for it so really I am just getting in trouble for it across the Channel?
Well. About an hour ago I dropped it in a bowl of dirty washing up water and now it's FUCKING BROKEN.
I fished it out quickly and it seemed to be working, but just to be on the safe side I thought I would put it in a bag of dry rice to absorb some of the moisture, only I didn't have a bag of rice, I had a packet of couscous; so I buried the phone in couscous and two minutes later there were fat, squishy grains of couscous embedded in every available phone orifice.
I think it might be broken. I've found an actual packet of rice now (it was, erm, in my flatmate's cupboard) and left the phone in there. I really hope it isn't broken. I need to cancel gas/water/electric etc tomorrow.
Last week I FINALLY bought some new headphones and downloaded music on to it as well. I haven't been listening to music recently and I'd forgotten how nice everything is when you've got music to listen to- I could just walk for hours and hours, when I've got something good to listen to.
On Saturday I went for a walk and just kept walking, like I used to in Paris. I walked to Hampstead Heath, through wooded tracks that my cousin found when she was here. It took me about an hour and a half from where I live.
It was so lovely, when I walked through quiet woodland I took my headphones out to listen to birdsong. And also to listen out for Creepy Perverts creeping up behind me. Every so often the wooded track would break and there would be an amazing millionaire housing estate, like Desperate Housewives only with mock-Tudor mansions and cottages. Wandering around one of the Millionaire Pockets were three Romany gypsies in tracksuits, they looked really out of place... Not because they were Travellers, but because they were whispering and hanging back all the time, shifting about as if they shouldn't be there.
I suddenly realised that I looked out of place too, in my I Know What You Did Last Summer coat, which looks really scruffy because the hood has fallen off, and in my No Name Trainers and no make-up. Luckily I reached Hampstead Heath before the police pulled me over for being a Suspicious Tramp and or/prostitute. (Like the real prostitutes you see near Manchester Piccadilly, with a scruffy coat on and shit trainers, teeth missing when they open their mouth to talk; not Hollywood Hookers like Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman.)
I don't really get what Hampstead Heath is. Is it just fields and people playing rugby, or is there an actual heath somewhere that I missed?
I'm supposed to be packing my room up tonight. New Flatmate has moved all her stuff in to the living for Some Reason, maybe to demonstrate the point that some shifting around needs to happen?
It will happen on Friday morning, when I move out. I suppose I could do some now, as I'm working in the pub tomorrow. I thought I had left the pub, then the manager texted me asking me to work on Saturday night... Hmm.
No cat on my bed tonight... I keep thinking he's going to jump in through the window but he isn't. Last night there was a cat wailing outside the back door, I thought it might be Rushdie- come home in a dramatic Homeward Bound-style return after an amazing adventure with wolves and mountains and urban foxes...
It was just Fluffy Tabby from next door, having a right old moan for No Reason. I opened the door to try and entice him in for cat stroking companionship but he ran away. I really feel as if I am part of the local #CAT crew now.
On Saturday afternoon as I set off for my walk to Hampstead Heath, I saw the big scary cat walking down the pavement, just strolling along casually in broad daylight like a human. I walked up behind him, expecting him to run away, but he just gave me the quick once over and carried on. Ha! He's such a badass. I'm starting to have a lot of respect for him.
I wonder how he can be out and about in broad daylight and still be out all night doing his sinister Tomcat Activities (let's be honest- it's raping). Probably he takes a lot of speed.
Just checked the phone- it's definitely fucking broken.
I cannot believe this.
A few hours ago I was thinking about all the nice plans I've got for Easter Weekend and then I thought 'Something will go wrong, it's too good to be true."
I knew it!
I have suddenly cheered right up, these past two weeks. I feel kind of guilty for my friend who has just lost her brother and for my dad's family who I have not spoken to since the funeral, because I was proper miserable and all of a sudden, I'm just not. I'm still sad about what happened, but I feel optimistic and I am starting to enjoy London, which probably has more to do with the fact that I didn't have to pay rent this month- I pay a month in arrears and as I am leaving this month, I don't pay anything- than the my ability to think positively.
It's sad that spending money makes me so happy.
But it makes such a difference, being able to buy drinks and say yes when people invite me out.
I think I better do some packing, just a little bit. Here's a song they played at work today- it came on and I suddenly remembered dancing to it last Saturday, after Rumpus Party. (I say dancing, maybe I mean side-stepping very slowly in the corner of the room, trying to work out what was going on...)
Did I tell you about Rumpus??? Maybe I will do a bit of packing and tell you all about it afterwards. There was a ball pool and glitter wrestling, burlesque dancers and DJs.
Here's this, for now: